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The True Stories of the Founders of Hogwarts by The_red_knight
Chapter 1 : Chapter I- Salazar
 
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Helga Hufflepuff, beautiful, witty, a superb chef, and pure-blood. She is the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the epitome of womanhood. I met Helga in July, on her seventh birthday, I had turned eight in September. My family was invited to her family's beach side manor in the south of France, the seventh birthday is very special birthday in the wizarding community because by at least the age of seven a child shows signs of magical ability. It was a spectacular event, centered around the young witches abilities, her parents flaunted her abilities, while she, along with some of her female cousins, giggled and gossiped on the boundary of the lavish yard.

"Salazar, you have noting better to do with your time, why don't you spend your time here with others of your own age?" My father hissed mercilessly.

As a young child I wanted to point out the obvious fact that the only people my age were girls, however I knew my duty and obeyed my father's orders. I walked as slowly as physically possible towards the cluster of females, stopping once to re-tie my dress shoe, and twice to feign laughter at the bewitched lion cubs wrestling in the grass. I approached the thick band of young girls, one glanced my way, giggled and passed on the information that a boy was walking towards them! I concentrated on Helga's face and gleaming eyes. when she received the news that she already knew, considering she was staring into my eyes. She smiled sweetly and approached me. She's pretty composed for a seven year old. I concluded wordlessly, even though I was only a year older than her I considered myself much more mature than her. We stood in front of each other, she curtseyed gracefully, but stumbled slightly. She smiled, most likely hoping I would ignore her blunder. I politely bowed to the group of girls, they curtseyed halfheartedly and returned to their gossip.

"Ms. Hufflepuff, I came to wish you a very joyous birthday," I smiled, coyly, an imitation of my father's world renowned facial expression.

"Please, call me Helga," she giggled, I noticed how young and uneducated by her mother in the proper etiquette of a lady.

I nodded, not wanting to upset the child on her birthday. She grinned widely, a sickeningly sweet grin, the grin of a minor. For the rest of the party we spoke, mostly her telling all that she learned on a family trip to Africa. When her cousins tried to convince her to leave me and talk to them she waved them off, never breaking her stream of conversation. Even when her beloved lion cubs came scratching at the ground at her feet, she flowed into introductions.

"This is Linus," she said picking up the make cub and passing him to me. I put out my hands trying to say I didn't want to pick him up, but she shoved him into my hands anyway. "And this is Stella!" She said excitedly, in a voice one would use when speaking to a baby human, not a baby lion.

After a few seconds of struggling I gave up and placed the squirming ball of golden fur on the grass. Immediately the cub in Helga's arms jumped on top of the lion I had just put down and they started wrestling again. When the sun began settings, painting the sky with hues of red and gold, my mother came to find me.

"Salazar," she said, her voice dripping like honey, "it's time to go home. Oh! Is this the birthday girl?" She asked, as if she was just noticing Helga. Helga curtseyed, I could tell it was the best curtsey she could muster from her tiny seven-year old body, my mother was satisfied, though she's satisfied on looks alone, I added to myself.

“Yes, ma'am. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm very sorry you have to leave, and I hope you had a lovely time.” Helga nodded and walked back to her friends.

As my family sat down to early morning tea the next day my mother could not refrain from speaking about the party the previous day.

“And the flowers were all so perfectly kept. And did you see those adorable lion cubs? Almost made me wish we had some! And, Salazar,” my head snapped up at the mention of my name.

“Yes mother?” I asked obediently, expecting her to ask me to “please be a dear and call that lazy house-elf over here,”

“So, the young lady, the center of attention at the party,” I knew this technique, my mother wanted me to complete the sentence. Wow! I’m still a kid and already she's forcing me to give her an opinion on girls!

“She was nice,” I said, my mother was satisfied with the compliment, as always, and she continued to praise the Hufflepuff's “spectacular decorations, and servants, and the children were so well behaved!” Eventually I became preoccupied with a lone bee buzzing from flower to flower and ignored my mother's prattling.

                                                                                                                                                 

Rowena Ravenclaw, however, is an object of disapproval in my view. Rowena is too smart, too arrogant, and too much of a blood traitor for my tastes. Rowena is always flaunting her abilities, always showing off, for Godric in particular. Godric Gryffindor has been my friend for nearly as long as Helga has been.

When I was first courted by Godric to create this school I was wary. He told me it would be a wonderful opportunity, but I believed there was always a better profession than a teacher.

“Come now, Salazar! This will be great, I already found one witch, fantastic abilities, unbelievably smart! I’m waiting on a reply from our dear friend, Helga Hufflepuff, all I need is your yes!” Godric had said to me in his booming too-loud voice that he couldn't control the volume off.

“Please, Godric! This idea is ridiculous! What parent is going to send their child to a school to learn magic! The parents can teach their children themselves, or did you forget that piece?” I asked sarcastically, playing off of his terrible memory. Godric simply rolled his eyes at my jab.

“Think it over, Salazar! I really think you don't want your dear Helga to be left alone without your careful supervision!” Godric hit my weak point, Helga. In the years that intervened from when I had met her she blossomed, she was now 20, and Godric had a reputation for his charms with women.

“Fine, but only if I want to. If I decide I don’t like it I’m leaving!” I said after some consideration.

                                                                                                                                                   

After that I noticed many parents would rather send their children to a school, rather than educate the child themselves. The witch Godric was alluding to that was unbelievably smart was Rowena. I do not see her as unbelievably smart, rather extremely proud.
 
 




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